Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?
by Ravenclaw992
Summary: Jenn Dawes has returned to Gotham City after ten years to find the murdered body of her mother.The clues point to Arkham Asylum and Jenn begins to wonder if her ex-fiancee, the Joker, is involved. Or is it another killer in Gotham? Takes place after TDK.
1. Rainy With A Chance of Murder

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gotham, or any other figure associated with the idea of the Batman series. Reviews of my(first) story are loved. I would really like to hear any comments, questions, or criticism. Thanx to you! (=

"Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?"

Chapter 1: Rainy With A Chance of Murder 

It was raining on the particular night in which the woman had to walk home from her nursing job at Arkham Asylum. The clouds above seemed to be pouring buckets of rainwater over the gloomy city of Gotham, and it did not show any signs of letting up. Wind whipped viciously around the woman, causing a spray of rain to occasionally hit her face. There was no one else on the street at this time of night and all she wanted to do was get inside the safety of her home as soon as possible. The woman soon heard soft footsteps behind her and, for a few minutes, she thought she might be going insane due to the horrors she had recently seen that night at Arkham. That place could really get to you if you worked late into the night. It caused you to jump at shadows. The footsteps did not vanish; instead they sounded as if they were constantly getting closer. As if someone was following her.

The woman had suddenly broken into a sprint after fifteen minutes of walking. The footsteps seemed to get a bit heavier as if the person was rushing to catch up behind her. It could easily have been her imagination due to her last session inside the walls of Arkham, but now a deep voice inside her argued against it. This wasn't her imagination at all. Someone was following her, but she didn't even know why. She wasn't exactly sure she wanted to find out either. Why did her home have to be so far away from Arkham?

The woman's dark brown hair swirled wildly in the wind and rain as she sought to push her body farther than it was already moving. Her breath came in fast gasps and she continually worked to ignore the burning sensation in her lungs. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest and it felt ready to explode at any given moment. She didn't dare turn around for a glance of her attacker for fear of losing her balance on the now slippery sidewalk that almost seemed to be getting the better of her slim stilettos. The woman closed her eyes and silently cursed herself for wearing such ridiculous footwear on a rainy day like this. There was no other person lingering in this part of the Narrows and it was pitch black on the streets, making it difficult for the woman to focus on where exactly her feet landed. The footsteps suddenly seemed to slow, as if her attacker was wearing down.

The woman's curiosity got the better of her mind and she sneaked a look at her attacker. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, allowing her a split second's chance at seeing her attacker's face. Before her mind could register what she saw of the shadowed figure that was closing in on her, her foot caught on something on the ground, causing her to launch forward onto the cold, wet concrete.

Her head connected painfully with the sidewalk and she instinctively shut her eyes to try to block out the pain that was now clouding her mind. Her head spun dizzily from connecting with the hard ground and it was too dark to really see anything in front of her. She could only focus on the excruciating pain in her head and the soft sound of her attacker's footsteps slowly coming to rest beside her almost unconscious body.

She felt hands tugging at her shirt, and she realized that her attacker was lifting her up from the ground. Still somewhat limp, the woman could do nothing to prevent the burning pain that immediately entered her chest; she could barely gain enough energy to scream. The pain seemed to spread down to her stomach, as if someone was slowly tearing her to shreds. Her attacker carelessly dropped her back onto the sidewalk like a ragdoll after becoming satisfied with the gruesome actions.

The pain seemed to spread throughout the woman's body and it became unbearable. She could sense the darkness swallowing her and taking hold of her for the last time. The last thing she heard before the darkness finally claimed her was the sound of maniacal laughter mixing with the heavy patter of falling raindrops on the lonely, empty streets of Gotham. Her last thought was filled with sadness and regret.

'_Forgive me…Jenn.'_


	2. Opening Old Wounds and Showing New Scars

Disclaimer: I do not own Gotham, Batman, Commissioner Gordon, or anything else associated to the series of Batman. I only own the character of Jenn. (=

Note:Here is Chapter 2! (= I hope all of you who are reading this enjoy it. Reviews are much loved since this is my first batman story. I appreciate all reviews, comments, ideas, questions, and constructive criticism. (= Thanx to you!! Enjoy.

Chapter 2: Opening Old Wounds and Showing New Scars

_Jenn's POV_

I wish I had ignored the phone call that came on September 10, 2010. If I had, it might have prevented me from being thrust into my haunting past yet again. The first time around was when I learned of the death of my sister, Rachel, two years ago. Anyway, that phone call changed everything for me and continues to lurk over my shoulder every once in a while. That's simply because it was my scars that were unwillingly ripped open in front of my eyes. It brought back all the haunting memories that I had worked so hard on burying in the back of my mind. I'm sorry, where exactly are my manners?

My name is Jennifer Dawes, whom everyone refers to as Jenn. It has been that way since my childhood days…whatever childhood I actually had. I distinctly remember my mother telling me that I was trying to grow up too fast, which was one of the factors that created the downfall of our relationship. However, that wasn't the only thing that caused our relationship to smash into pieces like a mirror.

My mother always preferred Rachel over me, and she didn't go out of her way to hide it either. By the time I was seventeen, I could not bear any more of her suffocating control. I ended up leaving Gotham behind and have not seen it in ten years. I haven't exactly made any attempt in contacting my mother during those years away from my hometown. All these thoughts raced in my head as that one phone call completely shatters my well-built reality. It was the phone call that brought me, somewhat reluctantly, back to Gotham City, and to face the murder of a woman I once knew.

____________________________________________________________________

Gotham City was gloomier than I remembered it. Perhaps that is because my memories of living in this city have been pushed to the far corners of my mind, in hopes that not even I myself could call them to the surface. I stepped out of the warm police cruiser that had picked me up earlier that morning and faced someone that immediately caused those memories to hit the front of my mind after 10 long years of silence.

Two detectives were standing, and apparently waiting, near the gruesome crime scene that would burn itself into my mind. One man slowly made his way towards me, one that I recognized as Detective Gordon. He had been the one to personally inform me of my sister's death, and I recalled that he had been nothing but concerned and caring at the time. Even after two years, I was able to recognize him, mainly by his concerned eyes. As he approached me, I noticed that he had a solemn look plastered on his face. He stretched out his hand, which I shook somewhat weakly, and he spoke with a quiet voice that also told me that what I was here for was not going to be a good start to the morning.

"Miss Dawes…I don't know if you remember me. I'm Commissioner Gordon." This man was Commissioner now? I guess I did miss a lot of what went on here in Gotham since I left, or at least since I last saw this man. I tried to choose my words carefully and attempted to cover any sign of sadness.

"No, I remember you. It isn't exactly hard to forget someone who personally informs you that your sister was murdered by someone as crazy as the Joker. I remember you." Gordon didn't show any sign that he had heard my words. Instead, he continued on before introducing me to the other detective who was simply watching our conversation like a tennis match.

"I'm sorry to bring you down here so abruptly. However, you'll find soon enough that I had no choice." Gordon's words came slowly, making me feel as if he, too, was trying to choose his words as carefully as possible, and perhaps grieved a bit for his choice of actions. He silently motioned to the second detective, who was still staring at the two of us. He was a tall man with a body that looked like it was suited for wrestling rather than police work. According to Gordon, his name was Detective Burke. He only offered me a curt nod before moving his eyes away from mine. He had hazel eyes along with jet black hair and a thick mustache. I chose to move my eyes away from him and responded to Gordon's statement.

"I haven't exactly been a resident of Gotham since I left my family here when I was seventeen. Hate to say it, but I hoped I was never going to have to return." I gave Gordon a weak smile before he offered his next words.

"I already know that, which is why I am sorry to show you the reason for why you had to return." He turned and walked briskly down one of the abandoned alleyways ahead of us. I didn't have to be told to follow him since my curiosity had just reached a high level. Again, I wish now that I had backed out while it was still early. Like Gordon, I had entered the constantly struggling area of detectives and police for a career. I knew how harsh that area of expertise could be to a person, how much pressure it could lay on your shoulders before you start questioning the reason you first entered the ring. I knew how many cruel, unexpected blows it could deal your way while trying to find peace, and how those blows could practically rip your being, your mind, into pieces.

The middle of the alleyway caused Gordon to stop abruptly, and left me to wonder why. He moved out of my way as I stared down at the lifeless body of a woman who had seen better days. I should know because the lifeless body belonged to my mother. It felt as if my whole body had instantly been drenched in ice water. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the one person I hoped I would never see again. Gordon spoke up lightly after a few minutes.

"We found her here late last night while some policemen were going around the neighborhoods." He paused for a moment before continuing. I suddenly had the instinctive feeling, a feeling that became extremely useful in my line of work, that Gordon was lying about something. I avoided the thought of questioning him and let him continue. "After doing standard tests, we discovered she was your mother. You were the last of her family in which we could contact." His words remained in my mind, as if they held greater meaning than was apparent. I slowly crouched down beside her body to get a better look at her.

Her hair was a wild mess and drenched in blood. I automatically assumed it was hers since there was a rather large wound near the top of her head. Her clothes had only been torn in the places where a sharp type of weapon was used on her. To me, it looked like a very sharp knife was used to cut open her chest and most of her stomach. However, this wasn't what really caught my eye. It was her face. Her eyes held none of the light that existed whenever she revolved herself around my sister. A sudden alarm in my head warned me not to think about those memories at the moment. But, Gordon was right. I was the last of my family since my sister had died two years ago. What a tragic night that must have been. I never went to her funeral due to my mother's existence. I could practically visualize the mocking glare she would have given me. Now, her eyes simply stared at nothing, emptiness reaching forever without any sign of ever showing life again.

No, what really got my attention was her lips. Someone had carved her face open and transformed it into a deadly smile. A smile that was not meant to charm anyone. I looked back up at Gordon, noticing that same look he had given me when I stepped out of the cruiser.

"Is that postmortem or did he carve her face like a pumpkin before she met her end?" My tone was more than a little sarcastic. At least, I thought the killer was a man; I had a suspect already in my mind though I had yet for an explanation as to how he would have pulled it off. Gordon sighed before responding to my resentful tone.

"Postmortem. Whoever did this most likely did that as an afterthought. She apparently died due to loss of blood from the stab wounds to her chest and lower abdomen. We've checked over everything, and my guess is that the killer is pretty clever and wouldn't leave any sign of his existence. We also have few suspects as of yet." So, Gordon thought it could be a man, too. His last sentence warned me that he had previously canceled out the possibility of my suspect.

"I want to look into this case myself. Though, I already have someone in mind that I would like to talk to as soon as possible." I stood silently and allowed Gordon to take in my words. He gave me a slightly puzzled look before taking the bait. Besides, he was the only one who could get my idea to work.

"Who exactly do you have in mind, Miss Dawes?" I waited a moment before answering. I wanted to be sure about my decision since it would result in other old wounds tearing open. I had no other ideas and no other option left to me at this point.

"I want to speak to my ex-fiancée. Think you could make that work for me, Gordon?" I inwardly scolded myself at his shocked look and my tone that was currently filled with acid. I hated the thought of this as much as he did. I hated it because I would have to enter the dark, insane realm of Arkham Asylum. It was the place where my mother had worked and the place where my ex-fiancée now resided.


	3. A Rendezvous With A Stranger

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, or anything else associated with the Batman series. DC Comics does. I only own Jenn. (=

Note: Reviews are much loved! R&R! I appreciate all comments, questions, ideas, and criticism. Thanx! (= Enjoy my story.

Chapter 3: A Rendezvous With A Stranger

Jenn's POV

Remember when I said that my mother was the only person I hoped to never see again? Well, I lied. The other person I hoped to never see again was my ex-fiancée. I had once hoped to marry him when I was 23. It was before he became a true stranger to me. The person I cared for had died, just like my mother did. The person who replaced him was someone I did not want to know. His name was Jack Napier. He is known widely in Gotham as a criminal known as the Joker. As I said, I hated my decision and have added it to my life-long list of regrets.

Arkham Asylum is located in one of the darkest parts of the Narrows in Gotham. It is a massive building that always takes on the role of looking incredibly intimidating on the outside and ten times worse on the inside. It is a place for those who have very dearly lost their minds to the most insane depths. I had never set foot inside it, but I had a blur of images racing through my mind that passed for expectations.

The large, iron gates slowly creaked open as Gordon guided the cruiser into the empty area that lay before the asylum. I could feel my body tense s the car slid to a stop in front of the entrance and I argued with myself about whether I really wanted to go through with this. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gordon turn towards me, as if ready to say something. Finally he spoke, and his voice was once again filled with concern.

"Are you sure you want to do this now? I mean, this is the man who caused Rachel to…" His voice trailed off. I knew he was recounting the event in his mind, just like I was. The only difference was the fact that he was there, and I wasn't.

"I need to do this. If I don't do this now, then I am sure that I never will." At that moment, I felt Gordon's eyes searching my face. Until that moment, I had forgotten how much I looked like my sister. I had the same eyes, the same rich brown hair even though mine was a little longer. I even had the same smile, though I did not show it as much as I used to. I was, however, a bit skinnier than my sister had been and a few inches taller. What also makes us different is how she chose to become a district attorney while I chose to marry someone who would eventually become a psychopathic killer.

"I just need to do this. Plus, you said that there was little chance that he had anything to do with my mother's murder. I am simply securing that claim by doing this. Anyway, this might trigger something else in my mind." Gordon nodded to show he understood my way of thinking. I reassured him that he did not have to accompany me on this insane trip.

Once inside Arkham Asylum, I felt the urge to leave. It was definitely the most depressing place I had ever been in. The simple texture of the inside of the asylum was very dull and I could feel the hopeless stares of the prisoners as a nurse led me silently down a hallway. Without speaking, she guided me into an elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. After a minute, she spoke softly, and I noticed that her voice was very shrill.

"I am sorry that I didn't introduce myself. My name is Harley Quinzel." She glanced expectedly at me, waiting for a response. I silently mocked her name; it was just too close to the word 'harlequin'. I decided that would be my nickname for her. Grudgingly, I offered her my name.

"Jennifer Dawes. I'm only here for the interrogation of my ex." Hopefully, my statement would give her the hint that she should keep her mouth closed. I was tense enough as it was. However, I've had enough horrendous experiences to know that I had no such luck.

"I believe your mother previously worked on that case. At least, she was working on it when she…uh…passed away. I'm working on his case now." I couldn't help picking up a sort of tone in her voice when she said this last statement, a tone that should not be there. It was something that sounded like fascination that she was able to have that case in her hands. I made a mental note to ask her about that later. I also wondered if this elevator could go any slower. I glanced over at the harlequin and she didn't seem to notice o care.

I then noticed how pretty she was. She had a thin frame to her, and long blonde hair that reached past her shoulders. She was wearing glasses, but I could see that her eyes were a clear blue. Waves of blonde hair framed her face, making her look even prettier. I inwardly made a note of disgust that this woman was taking over my ex's case. Finally, the doors slid open and I breathed an audible sigh of relief. The harlequin tilted her head to the side while looking at me, holding a questioning look in those clear eyes. I refused to give her the satisfaction of explaining myself.

The harlequin swiftly moved forward down the lonely hallway with me trailing behind her. It was a long hallway and I didn't feel any of the lonely stares as I did downstairs. I wondered if this was the hallway reserved only for the extreme patients. That would explain a lot.

The doctor stopped in front of a white door that only had a slit of a window on it, and I silently questioned what was to happen now. As if reading my thoughts, the harlequin spoke up in that shrill voice.

"You can wait in this interrogation room. Two other doctors are working to bring the patient down here. They just have to be sure everything is secure before the interrogation. It's all about precaution, you understand." I understood too well. It was to make sure the patients were locked down with the most extreme security, almost to the point where they would feel trapped. I knew about that because it was how I would feel whenever I was living under my mother's roof. I also understood that making the mistake of letting this patient escape would be critical to the city of Gotham.

The doctor pulled open the door for me to enter. I cautiously entered the room and took in the look of it. Everything was…white. Whiter than white. There was a long mirror that stretched across one wall, and I knew this would be the two-way mirror that the doctors would use to watch the interrogation. There was a large table in the very middle of the room and two chairs, one on each side. I sat quickly down in the chair closest to me and waited.

At last, the sound of the door being pulled open reached my ears, but I did not look up. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the two doctors guide the patient to the other chair across from me. They gave out a warning that they would be watching in case anything happened, and they left the room. I was now alone with the person I desperately hoped never to look in the eyes again, even more so than my mother. This day just kept getting better and better.


	4. Hello, darling, Look At My Scars

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, Harley Quinzel, or anything else associated with the series of Batman. DC Comics does. The only character I own is Jenn. (=

Note: Reviews are loved! I appreciate all reviews, comments, questions, ideas, and constructive criticism. Thanx to you! Enjoy the story! (= Remember: reviews!

Chapter 4: Hello, Darling, Look At My Scars

I could instantly feel his eyes on me, searching for some clue as to why I showed up. Maybe he already knew. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of looking up nervously or as if I was somewhat afraid. I was afraid, but not of him. I was afraid of willingly going forth with ripping open my old wounds. After calming myself just a bit, I finally looked up at the man I had once known. I was almost instantly taken by surprise by the look of him.

He almost looked like my ex-fiancée. The first thing I noticed was that he did not have any of the signature makeup that completed his image as the Joker. His wavy, brown hair loosely hung past his jaw line and I noticed it was little more than carelessly put together. His eyes were the brown that I remembered, but they held not even a ghost of the depths I was familiar with four years ago. Now, they were cold, mocking, and cruel almost to the point where they could bore right through you. As I said, he almost looked like my ex. Almost. Except for the scars. The scars stretched from the corners of his lips and up, almost below his eyes. They were crudely formed into a jagged smile. I recognized them, though I did not want to drag up that memory. I knew then that he wanted people to look at them, to try to understand them even though they never could. They were the scars of a madman.

As if seeing my own thoughts in his head, he gave a small, unnerving laugh. His eyes now held a hint of amusement. I was also bewildered by the way he spoke to me.

"So, what ah brings you down here to the…uh…drowning pool, huh, dollface?" I did not want to answer him immediately. He didn't sound like my ex at all. He sounded mocking, as if he was thoroughly enjoying this scene. Without speaking, I laid the case file on the table and watched as his eyes ignored it. I held up a photograph of my mother's lifeless body in front of him before starting my questioning.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?" I patiently watched as his eyes explored the photo. He smiled greatly and leaned back in his chair.

"Nope. Besides, how could I do something as, ah, crude as that? I was stuck in here, see?" He held up his handcuffed hands to make his point. I searched those eyes for another minute before continuing.

"How do I know you're being truthful with me about not knowing anything?" He giggled for a minute before answering, his voice back to the mocking tone.

"You don't, do ya? It looks to me like you're…ah…lost. Just like when you left mommy, huh?" He stopped and licked his lips, even began slowly chewing on his scars. "Looks to me like you might not have much of a…_chance_ this time, Jenny." As soon as he finished his statement, he began hysterically laughing, as if towards some hidden joke. I took the bait, even though I should've known better.

"Mind telling me exactly what you find so funny?" I could hear the aggressive annoyance in my voice, but I did nothing to try to stop it. If anything, it made him laugh harder.

"You wouldn't get the…ah…_joke._" At this point, he continued laughing while I waited for him to focus on me again. Instead, he threw out a question that almost caused my patience to disappear. "Still wanna know how I got these scars? Your sister, ah, Rachel was very curious before she, ah, died." His laughter never seemed to cease in those minutes as my patience continued to become strained.

"She was sharp as a…uh…'harlequin', if I do say so myself. And you, ah, weren't there to see the girl burn." On my lap, I could feel my hands beginning to clench, and I fought for control over my actions. Something in his words triggered my mind, but I had forgotten what it was at the point where I was almost without patience. I decided that I would get nothing more from him at this point. I stood up cautiously and spoke under my breath.

"I'm done here." I knew the doctors would be rushing in any minute to escort him back to his cell. I stopped when I heard him laughing again. I turned to face him once again and regretted that I did when my eyes locked with his mocking ones.

"Running away, Jenny? Just like, ah, last time. Is someone a little, ah, afraid?" The doctors rushed in at that moment and only the harlequin's grip on my arms stopped me from launching at my ex-fiancée. She gave me a stern look before tugging me out the door of the interrogation room. It wasn't until I was safely inside the warm interior of Gordon's cruiser that I realized what had triggered my mind in that room. It was one of the Joker's statements in which he had mentioned the word 'harlequin' that jogged my mind. It was simply because 'harlequin' was the word I used to refer to Dr. Harley Quinzel.


	5. One More Murder

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, Harley Quinzel, or anything else that is associated with the Batman series. That belongs to Dc Comics. (=

Note: Reviews, reviews, reviews=love! This is my first story so don't go too fierce on me. But I do appreciate any reviews, ideas, thoughts, questions, or constructive criticism that you guys can give me! (= Enjoy. Also, this chapter is kinda long, but enjoy nonetheless.

Chapter 5: The Burden of a Harlequin

Commissioner Gordon drove the police cruiser through the streets of Gotham and farther away from the hellhouse known as Arkham Asylum. Jenn sat silently in the passenger seat, not bothering to make eye contact ever since coming out of the asylum. Gordon didn't really expect her to, and he didn't blame her one bit for not wanting to talk about it. Walking in to the asylum and listening to a madman as haunting as the Joker could definitely take a toll on your mind. He was sure the girl had never even been inside the asylum before. Poor girl; he felt a sort of compassion for her. It was horrible to see someone face so many unfortunate events. Judging by the glum look on her face, that visit had been yet another one of those events.

Gordon turned his thoughts toward Rachel instead, all the while knowing it was a dangerous path to take. The girl looked just like Rachel and looking at her caused some of the memories to start up. It had been a horrible day when Rachel met her end. She had been a good friend to Gordon, and it was so hard to imagine that someone like her was gone, that her light had finally burned out. It happened just after Gordon was named Commissioner. The event was made even worse when Harvey Dent got half of his face burned off and was manipulated by the Joker into becoming a criminal, killing people out of rage over the loss of Rachel.

Gordon glanced over at Jenn again, and considered the level of misery it caused her to realize that the man she once loved had killed her only sister. Poor kid. It was definitely one of the most gruesome aspects of life. Now, he wondered if the same person was responsible for the death of Jenn's mother. Gordon didn't think it was much of a coincidence that Jenn's mother was working on the Joker's case before she was murdered. Why was she murdered in the first place? Without the idea of motivation, they pretty much had nothing to go on throughout the case.

Well, Gordon knew one thing for certain. Jenn was going to end up racking her brains tonight. He just hoped she would come up with something useful.

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The killer moved swiftly through the streets of Gotham. It was already getting chilly outside and the killer almost considered putting off the job until the following night. However, the house was so close…

It was like any other house; it was small, and had warm, golden light flowing through the windows. The woman wasn't in bed yet. It was almost eight, which meant the woman recently arrived home from her job. The killer knew the woman usually jumped into bed after getting home from her job; it had been so easy to follow her home for about a week now.

The killer moved towards the front door of the house. A better idea had come to mind, one that would really throw the police off. Better yet, it might throw her off. Jenn. Already she seemed to be searching around places that were just too close fro the killer's own good. This would hopefully throw her off for a while. The killer stepped up to the doorway, glancing around the bare street in case anyone was around, and rapped three times on the royal blue door. After a moment, the killer could distinctly hear the sound of a lock turning and the door swung inward to reveal the next victim.

She was wearing a large, red sweater that bore the logo of a college and she also sported what looked to be an old pair of sweatpants. Her auburn hair was a bit askew and barely reached her shoulders. The killer watched as the woman's emerald eyes shifted to recognition of her visitor. Her voice was extremely light and small, which made her seem younger than she really was.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to be visiting at this time of night. Well, it is very cold out tonight." She wrapped her arms around her body and seemed to bury herself a bit more inside her large sweater before stepping aside to let her visitor inside. As she welcomed her guest inside, she remained unaware that this visitor would ultimately be her last. She led the way into a very small room which seemed to pass as a living room. It contained a minuscule television set next to a high table and a battered couch. The woman turned to her visitor excitedly and the killer noted how her voice was filled with great enthusiasm; it would be wonderful to hear that enthusiasm die away on the wind as her last bit of life wisped away.

"So…would you care for some ginger tea? I was about to make some for myself before you came along. Hehe. Please, have some. It is my specialty." The killer nodded curtly and stared at her back as she rushed away into the kitchen. The killer quickly slipped something out of one of the coat pockets and waited for the woman to return with a tray filled with a teapot and two cups. The woman smiled brightly as she handed one to her guest and took one for herself before settling onto a leather recliner that the killer hadn't noticed before. She raised her cup and waited for her guest to do the same.

"Cheers then? It has been awhile since I last had a visitor. I actually think it was about ten years ago when my best friend left. I don't know if you know her. Her name is Jenn Dawes. I would be happy to introduce you sometime, if I could ever get the chance to contact her again." The killer didn't respond while he tapped his cup against hers; his thoughts were focused on the woman's last sentence.

_You stupid woman. I already know Jenn. I've already met her. And we'll have a wonderful chance to get to know each other better soon. I'll make sure of it. Tonight is all about you, even if you don't realize it yet. But you will. Soon. Cheers to this night indeed. It's time to have some fun, just the two of us. _

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After performing the necessary task that night, the killer quietly left the house. It had been even more satisfying a murder than Jenn's mother had been. Before turning away for the final time, the killer stood back and gleefully admired the jumping flames that had started to burn inside the house. In the distance, sirens sounded quickly due to the first signs of black smoke lifting into the dark sky above. Perhaps this death would teach Jenn a lesson about putting her pretty nose where it most certainly did not belong. Besides, if it didn't, then more fun would be somewhere close in the future. In fact, the killer almost hoped that Jenn would continue playing her game; it would be highly disappointing if she didn't. Sure, the killer and Jenn would keep playing their cat-and-mouse game. Only this time, it would be much more…personal.

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_Jenn's POV_

I was pacing back and forth in my apartment when it happened. Another phone call that I could not, but had wanted to, ignore. I had given Gordon the number for my apartment in case anything came up. Apparently, something did happen.

I was twisting my hands through my dark hair, and my mind was in a state of frenzy that night. It was almost nine and I could not relax my body; I found that I was constantly walking and pacing and thinking. It seems that was all I intended to do that night. Our sly friend, the killer, had a different and possibly more intriguing plan for me. I had been going over the events that took place at Arkham Asylum, trying to make sense of even one clue. I had no leads except a small suspicion that I could not seem to shake; it was a suspicion that my ex was involved with the murder. I didn't know how, but something told me that he was involved. I also made a mental note to stop referring to him as my "ex". However, one of his statements repeatedly jumped out at me.

I couldn't help wondering if it was just a coincidence that the Joker used the word "harlequin". Then again, I wasn't one to confide in the theory of coincidences. Perhaps he was giving me a simplistic hint in the case, and maybe he was doing it so as not to directly name any suspects. I corrected myself immediately, knowing that someone like the Joker wouldn't do something without having the chance to benefit himself. My main question revolved around the idea that somehow everything was connected.

My train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the annoying chirping of the telephone. Gordon's voice sounded urgent while still being strained by exhaustion. After all, it was nine o'clock at night and he probably hadn't let up on the case since he started it. My intuition told me something wicked was inevitably coming my way. I hate it when I'm right.

"Jenn, thank God you're still awake. A detective called in to my office and reported a fire in one of the apartments in the Narrows. We thought it was only a fire, but we were wrong. Our killer has struck again." He paused, letting me take in this information. My grip on the phone tightened and I wanted him to continue. I was also frustrated that the killer had struck again without us being able to do anything. When Gordon spoke again, his voice was calmer than before, which eased my senses the tiniest bit. "I'd appreciate it if you could show up at the crime scene with me. It could be connected to you again and, if it is, I'll need someone to identify the victim." I registered what Gordon told me, and my mind instantly started racing with questions.

Why did the killer strike again? Was it another person I knew from my past? Was the Joker somehow involved with these murders or was the killer just throwing me off by pointing him out, simply due to the fact that he too was a murderous being? I took a deep breath before replying.

"Pick me up in ten minutes. I want to be the first one to scope out the crime scene. Maybe this time our killer left us a clue." I briskly hung up the phone, grabbed a light overcoat, and left to discover what gruesome scene awaited me this time.

_______________________________________________________________

The dark knight was perched on a roof, close enough to see and hear what was going on at the crime scene. This time it was worse that the scene that the killer had left at the point of Mrs. Dawes' murder. It was actually Batman who discovered the body of Jenn's mother and reported it to Gordon. Even though he was now an outcast, he still kept a strong connection with Gordon, in case anything should arise on the streets of Gotham. He then noticed Gordon's cruiser pull hastily up to the curb. A young woman emerged from the passenger side of the car and Batman had to restrain himself due to the shock he felt overtaking his body.

The woman looked exactly like Rachel, only now he recognized her as Rachel's sister. He had never met her before, but Rachel did mention her a couple times without going deep into detail. She cautiously approached the small house with a look of irritation on her face. Apparently, she also hated what the killer was doing within the city of Gotham. Truth be told, the pattern was close to that of the Joker…

He would have to get the case file from Gordon, try to figure out what exactly was going on. He wanted to find whoever was doing this. For now, he decided to be on the lookout for anything suspicious and concentrate on finding suspects, even if it meant looking briefly into Arkham Asylum. Batman rose to the sky as the last bit of smoke vanished into the air, smoke that lifted from a house that would glow no more in the night.


	6. Through Fire and Flames

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Commissioner Gordon, the Joker, Harley Quinzel, or anything else associated with the series of Batman. DC Comics does. I only own Jenn Dawes. That's it. (=

Note: Here's Chapter 6! I hope you like it and I appreciate all reviews, comments, and constructive criticism from those who read it. R&R! (= Enjoy. 

Chapter 6: Through Fire and Flames

The house wasn't completely in ruins. I could see that the minute I stepped out of Gordon's cruiser. Smoke continued to lift from the house and I stifled a small cough before stepping further into the crime scene. I knew this house, especially since it used to belong to the family of one of my childhood friends. Her name was Amber Mitchell, and she was once the closest person to me. I have not seen her in ten years since I solemnly admitted that I was leaving Gotham. Now I had returned, but she was the one who was now missing from the picture. I once again cursed whoever did this and explored the partially burned house.

It occurred to me that the killer did not want the whole house to burn, that it was only to alert us that he had struck again under our noses. What bothered me most was the fact that I couldn't do anything at this point to fix it. I couldn't have done anything to stop it. I quietly made my theory clear to Gordon who agreed to my way of thinking.

The body of my friend was located in the living room. She was propped up in a chair and she was covered in ashes and blood, especially around her upper chest. A smashed cup lay a few feet from the chair, as if she dropped her drink after being stabbed. Her face, like my mother's, was carved in a cruel way that formed a deadly smile. A mental image of the Joker entered my mind and I impatiently tried to push it back to the corners of my mind. Feeling a presence behind me, I turned to face Gordon.

"There are no fingerprints besides those belonging to the victim. If our killer did touch anything, I'm willing to bet he remembered not to leave his gloves at home. By any chance, do you…know this woman?" I stared into my friend's lifeless eyes and felt a burst of pain that had stayed numb for ten years.

"Sadly…yes. She was my childhood friend, my best friend. Her name was Amber Mitchell. I haven't spoken to her in ten years." I let my words drift off before allowing my eyes to roam over the rest of the crime scene. The fire had reached the majority of the kitchen, Amber's bedroom, and had started towards the living room when the police and firemen arrived to handle the situation. To an ordinary eye, there wouldn't have been anything wrong with this picture besides a girl with her chest ripped open. To my eye, something wasn't right about this. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Then I noticed what caused my mind to go on the alert.

A second cup was placed on the table in the living room, and it was near a second chair in the living room. An empty chair. My mind started sprinting as I realized what this meant. The killer had been inside, sitting in that second chair. Something told me that part was not postmortem. It meant that it was someone that Amber either knew or trusted, and she let that person into her house. It was perfect because it gave the killer the perfect opportunity to follow through with the horrible task. I alerted Gordon to my suspicion, and I watched as realization covered his face.

I snapped on a pair of gloves and cautiously grabbed up the second cup. I began hoping that our killer had finally slipped. No such luck. There were no signs that anyone had drank from the cup and it was full almost to the brim with now cold tea. The killer never drank it, only sat patiently waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

I was ready to gingerly place the cup back in its spot when my fingers brushed over something unusual. A small slip of paper was taped on the inside of the cup's handle. I removed the paper and quickly unfolded it. Gordon's eyes widened when he realized what I was holding and waited until I did unfold the paper to step closer towards me. The note had narrow, neat writing that simply said: "_Stay away. Or Lincoln at 3._" I felt my face scrunch up in confusion as I tried to understand the second part of the message.

What did the killer mean, saying "Lincoln at 3"? Was Lincoln a person that would be killed unless I removed myself from the case? I didn't know any Lincolns or could make no more sense of the message. I did, however, recognize the writing as belonging to my ex-fiancée. I then knew three things for certain. One, I was going to pay another visit to Arkham Asylum, whether my sane mind wanted to or not. Two, I was not going to let myself fall away from this case no matter what threats were made. Three, I knew instantly that, despite not knowing who the killer was, I had rattled the cages since arriving back in Gotham. _____________________________________________________________

Dr. Harley Quinzel leaned back in her office chair and thought about Jennifer Dawes. She ultimately decided that she disliked the woman. She seemed completely arrogant when it came to interrogating people or working on the case. What did she expect to find anyway?

The doctor turned her thoughts to her own case. She felt she was making a bit more progress with the Joker. Sure, he was almost impossible to figure out. However, she was sure that she could gain more information from him than she did last time. She was at least getting more info than the old woman had ever hoped to get from the Joker. And the old woman was Jenn's mother? That was the most ironic thing that Harley had heard the whole day. Jenn's mother put Jenn into a kind of hellhouse when she was a child and then Jenn's own mother had faced the ultimate hellhouse. Truly, it had finally gotten the best of her before her death.

Harley stifled a mocking, yet amused laugh as the door to her office was pushed open by a small nurse who was having a horrible hair day. Harley twisted a strand of her own beautiful hair as the small nurse addressed her.

"Dr. Quinzel? Ummm…Detective Dawes is here again. To see the same patient, apparently. Would you mind escorting her again?" Harley released her hair as she considered this. Without speaking, she minimized the computer file containing the background of Jennifer Dawes and stood up. She nodded to the nurse before clearing her throat.

"I wouldn't mind it one bit. I actually prefer that I…escort Detective Dawes. I mean, it _is_ my case after all." Harley couldn't keep the tone of glee out of her voice during her last statement. She had been dying to have that case anyway. The Joker was a truly fascinating patient. Harley watched as the nurse turned quickly and headed out of the office. If anything, this would be the perfect chance to pick Jennifer's brain. Harley eagerly made her way to the first floor, all the while laughing at a joke only she could understand.


	7. Another Day at the Asylum of Horrors

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, Harley Quinzel, or anything else that is associated with the series of Batman. I only own Jenn Dawes. (=

Note: The seventh chapter! (= I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it, and remember: R&R! I love all reviews, comments, questions, or constructive criticism. Thank you and enjoy!

Chapter 7: Another Day at the Asylum of Horrors

Does the woman ever learn from her mistakes? There she goes again, walking into the asylum and hoping to find something. The killer was becoming angrier at the thought of Jenn Dawes. Why couldn't she just take the message seriously? Of course, she was clever, finding the message in that girl's house. The handwriting was what probably led her snooping back towards the asylum. The message was clear enough. If the "detective" was really smart, she would stay away. Gordon was doing a pitiful job of keeping his little dog on a tight leash. He should know better, especially after Rachel Dawes. Twins. If one goes down, the other one apparently has to follow. Fine, if she likes the game that way…The killer checked the time carefully. It was nearly ten in the morning. Jenn would ultimately have to pay for her mistakes. The killer thought again of the special note. _'Lincoln at 3'…_What fun the killer would have with Jenn then.

_____________________________________________________________________________

_Jenn_

The first thing I saw upon entering the asylum again was Harley Quinzel. She was standing near a desk in the lobby, twisting a thin lock of her light hair. It looked as if she was growing impatient. I allowed her to guide me to the slow elevators—curse those elevators—and neither of us spoke until we were moving up in the elevator. When the harlequin did speak up, again in a shrill voice, she sounded bothered by my very presence.

"How many times are you planning on interrogating my patient?" I did not acknowledge her words for a full minute. I was getting testy with her presence as well, and this case was really putting a heavy layer of tension on my shoulders. To my surprise, I found it increasingly difficult to keep my patience steady. Okay, if you want the truth, I felt about ready to strangle the harlequin at this point. The existence of my ex did not make this feeling any better.

"I will keep arriving here until I get my answers. The sooner I get them, the sooner I can leave this…hospital…alone." Harley tossed me a frustrated look at my response before continuing her argument.

"Why don't you start interrogating somewhere or someone else if you really want to close this case?" Okay, was this blonde-haired….'doctor'…really trying to play the angry paparazzi card? What was with all the questions anyway? It was starting to make my blood boil. I drew in a deep breath before giving her an idea that would be sure to test her nerves.

"You're right. I should be focusing on questioning other people." I paused as the elevator doors slid smoothly open. I could feel her face twist into shock and disbelief at my next words. "I'm starting with you. I'm sure you have time for a little interview, right, doctor?" With that, I stepped out of the elevator, leaving behind a shocked harlequin, all the while feeling a look of triumph crawl over my face.

Two doctors brought in the Joker, same as last time. The harlequin had completely abandoned me after the conversation in the elevator. I was sure I could find her office in time for our…interview. I waited until the doctors left the room before doing anything. This time, I stared directly into his eyes while he stared coldly back into mine. I wasn't in the mood for jokes right now, especially his. His voice hadn't changed since our last meeting; it was still mocking and filled with amusement.

"Back again, so soon? What can I, ah, do for you this time, Jenny?" His laughter, always mocking, reached my ears and I felt my fists clench. I held out the slip of paper that—coincidentally—had his handwriting on it.

"I'm sure you of all people remember writing something like this." He barely glanced at the words before his scarred smile stretched into a cold grin.

"Why would a guy like me write something like that? Your company is so, ah, interesting. Then again, better to…burn…through all your suspects as soon as possible. It, ah, looks like a threat to me. It would be something to watch someone getting blown up, wouldn't it? Particularly when they get their face blown off, huh? We wouldn't want anyone to blow up like that due to your, ah, mistakes, would we?" I patiently waited for him to finish laughing, all the while wondering about his use of the word 'burn' and his reference to blowing people up. I was growing more tense by the minute.

"Look…I need some answers. If you did write this, I want to know why. I'm not leaving until I get those answers." He only licked his scarred lips and laughed even more. Angrily, I wondered if he would die by his overuse of laughter.

"Well then, it seems as if we could get to, ah, spend more time together, huh? If that statement of yours was true, you'd be spending a lot of, ah, time in here." He slowly licked his lips again and allowed his words to sink in. Without knowing what I was doing, I slammed my hand hard on the table. Anger filled my voice as I continued to try to fish information out of him.

"I need those answers. If you know who's committing these murders, you'd better tell me. I don't have time for your useless jokes at this point. Either you will give me the answers I need or you won't." He leaned back in the chair as amusement seemed to light up his eyes. He slowly leaned towards me and my body suddenly froze.

"Then I won't, will I?" He started laughing hysterically yet again as I stormed out of my chair towards the door. I was just leaving the room when I heard him calling after me. "Jenny…why…so..._serious?_" At this point, more laughter escaped the room as two doctors rushed into the interrogation room and guided him down the hallway. After giving my mind a chance to calm down, I realized the only thing I wanted to do now was find the harlequin and see how innocent she really was.

Before I could start making my way down the hall, a small laugh reached my ears. It came from one of the cells across from the interrogation room. I cautiously stepped up to the cell door as a man pressed his face to the barred window. He was tall and his face was very serious. He had dark brown hair as well as piercing blue eyes. Those eyes were like the Joker's in the way that they could seemingly bore right through you. His voice, however, seemed somewhat sane.

"If I were you, I would be careful about where I snoop around. Could get you into a bit of trouble, my dear." I stepped carefully towards the bars and listened carefully to his words as he continued. "I'm afraid you won't get much info out of the Joker; he's always so difficult to understand. Don't you agree, my dear?" Although I still didn't realize it, I had come very close to his cell door. I hesitated about replying, but decided I had no choice.

"Oh, I agree at this point. However, I still need answers. I hope you don't mind me asking, but who are you?" He offered me a slight grin before revealing his identity.

"I am two people, my dear. I am Jonathon crane, and I used to be a doctor at this very asylum. However, I am also the Scarecrow. You should ask Commissioner Gordon about me; he would be able to tell you a lot." I opened my mouth to offer my name, but he waved his hand briskly in order to prevent me from talking at the moment. "I already know who you are. How could I not? You look exactly like Rachel Dawes, the former district attorney. If you want answers, I suggest you look somewhere closer within this asylum. This asylum holds all the answers. As I simply like to say, it's another day at the asylum of horrors." I listened to his words and took them in. I would have to remember this meeting for later use. Instead, I asked him about the harlequin's office. He pointed me towards a small away, and then disappeared from view. His voice drifted across to me. "Be careful, my dear. Be careful."

I slowly neared the small hallway, mentally preparing myself for the little meeting with the harlequin. I nervously checked my watch, and I noticed it was half past eleven. I also made a mental note to help myself to a drink after this stressful day.

_________________________________________________________________

Harley Quinzel's mind felt about ready to explode. The conversation in the elevator had not gone the way she planned. What the hell was the little detective searching for? Harley would make sure Jenn couldn't find anything in her office. Nothing suspicious anyway. A soft rapping on the door made Harley pause in her thinking.

The door swung open and _she_ stood there, arms crossed and waiting. Jenn looked a bit calmer than she had in the elevator. Time for the 'interview', as Jenn liked to put it. Her tone was cold, but it was also professional.

"So…you deeply requested taking over the Joker's case? May I inquire as to the reason you made your sudden request?" Harley's lips pursed in annoyance.

"I happen to find the Joker highly amusing as a patient and interesting. Much more so than other patients." Jenn visibly smirked at Harley's words. She stepped close to Harley's desk, and Harley could have sworn that Jenn's eyes grew a shade darker.

"Amusing? Then you have a bad sense of humor, don't you?" Jenn thrust a picture of one of the victims towards Harley's face. It was a picture of the latest victim. "Do you know this woman? She's a childhood friend of mine. I'm telling you now, doctor. You'd better not lie to me." Harley glanced at the photo and looked away, avoiding Jenn's piercing glare. Her voice came out slightly shaky and she hoped Jenn would not notice.

"No. I have never met that woman before in my life. I don't even know her name. What do you expect to find in this line of questioning?" Jenn ignored Harley's question and continued her questioning while moving around Harley's office.

"You seem to find the Joker's case something to be happy about. There wouldn't happen to be something a bit more….biased, would there?" Harley put on an expression of disgust.

"You aren't seriously intending to mean that I have a hand in these murders, are you? I simply find my patient interesting, and that is all. Let me ask you something, detective. What drove you away from him in the first place, huh?" Jenn once again ignored Harley's question since it was not relevant to the line of questioning. Instead, she went on with interrogating Harley.

"I don't know. You seem the type to hide information that might damage your image, doctor. If you hide anything, I promise I will find out what you're hiding. I'm the one you don't want as your enemy." Jenn glared at Harley for another minute, waiting for her to respond. When Harley did not make an attempt to speak, Jenn stormed out of Harley's office. The girl was smarter than she looked. Harley decided to try to be more careful next time. If there was a next time.


	8. The 3rd Time Around

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, Harley Quinzel, or anything else associated with the series. DC Comics does. I only own Jennifer Dawes.

Note: This is the eighth chapter! I hope everyone who is reading this keeps reading. Also…R&R! All reviews, questions, ideas, and constructive criticism are appreciated. (= Enjoy. 

Chapter 8: The 3rd Time Around

I sat in my old Mustang after leaving the asylum, waiting for the traffic to move a bit more. It was actually a relief not to ride in Gordon's cruiser any longer. I played with the radio for a few minutes and ended up stopping on a station that was currently playing country music. Despite the volume of the radio, I found that I could not concentrate on the music at all. Dozens of questions and thoughts were pounding inside my brain. Try as I might, I could not find an answer to any of my questions. Worse than that, I could not find a way to clear my mind.

The traffic refused to move any further and I was only half aware of my tightening grip on the steering wheel. I attempted to focus on something else and I eventually caught myself looking towards the street sign. It was the street where my apartment was located, one that had been tricky to get a hold of. There was something that was tugging at my mind. At first, I thought it was simply because I was so close to reaching my apartment, where I would be able to surround myself with my own boundaries and think about the case in complete silence. I corrected myself. That wasn't what was bothering me. I focused my eyes more directly on the street sign. The street sign, appearing somewhat old, simply read "Lincoln Street".

Something instantly clicked in my head, something I haven't considered in the last few hours. I tore my eyes away from the street sign and quickly checked the time on the dashboard. It was exactly 2:45, almost three in the afternoon. Some of the pieces of a neglected puzzle began to finally connect. It was almost three on Lincoln Street, the street of which I was temporarily living. If it wasn't for the complicated traffic, I would be sitting in my apartment right now, and oblivious to every other thing in this universe including time.

My mind conjured up the memory of the killer's note, containing the words 'Lincoln at 3'. The words that used to make such little sense, but now suddenly became clear like fog that was finally fading away to reveal a golden sun. I then realized that my apartment was going to be the killer's next target. Whether the killer expected me to be inside was still a mystery to me. The traffic was still refusing to move, and now five more minutes had passed.

I grabbed up my cell phone that had been sitting in one of the car's cup holders and hastily dialed Gordon's number. The minute I heard his calm voice on the line, I blurted out the thoughts that I realized were inevitably true. Plus, it wasn't just me who was living in the building; it was home to at least four other families. Ones who would probably die if I didn't try to stop what was coming. Another memory flashed in my head as Gordon hung up, and I also discovered that I was grateful for Gordon being so close to my apartment.

The memory that started playing in my head was the one of the flames that had attempted to consume Amber's house. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I knew there was another reason for the flames that night. It was a reason we had failed to understand at the time. The killer wanted to show us that he could easily burn down a building without us being able to do anything. The next building was my apartment, and it would be a greater task than Amber's house had been. Hell, the killer might even use the threat of bombs to blow up the building, a fact that seemed to relate to the Joker's own patterns.

I knew I could not wait another second as the traffic crawled forward. The only thing that mattered right now was succeeding at disrupting the killer's plan this time. I chose to jump out of my vehicle and I immediately started sprinting down Lincoln Street, ignoring the angry shouts as people that were behind me in the horrendous traffic glimpsed my sudden actions.

I pushed people out of my way without looking at them in the eyes; other lives were temporarily at stake and I could not distract myself with the glares of the other people on the sidewalk. My lungs burned from running so hard and all I could think about was reaching my destination. My legs didn't seem to move fast enough and I realized that if I didn't attempt to push myself harder, surely I would be too late. How much time had passed since I informed Gordon of the upcoming tragedy? Five minutes? Ten? I didn't have that much time left and it was constantly ticking against me.

In the distance, I could almost see Gordon's cruiser and I knew that he would have wasted no time in evacuating the building as quickly and efficiently as possible. I considered stopping to breathe a sigh of relief that Gordon continued to pull through for me throughout this case, but I decided to save celebrating for later. Numerous families swarmed into the street while others struggled to escape the building. Close passersby joined the crowd to speculate on what was going on at the moment, but I paid little attention to them. I immediately screamed out, warning the people to back away. My mind began visualizing the effect that a bomb would have. I also imagined that the killer could be in the crowd with front row seats to his own cruel show.

My eyes scanned the crowd helplessly as more people pushed past, but I did not catch one remotely familiar face, including Gordon. People stopped coming out from the building and I hoped that every family had gotten out safely. I glanced at my watch again, seeing as nothing had happened yet. My stomach and mind seemed to completely freeze and I could have sworn that my heart stopped for a clear minute. It was now one minute to three. I had to find Gordon and make sure he was safe among the other people in this area. As I saw it, he was the only person who had lent me a helping hand, and I wasn't going to let the killer take him away now.

Nothing was happening, and whispers around me confirmed that these people were thinking the same thing. I quickly began edging towards the building. That's when it happened, almost out of nowhere. My body was painfully thrust backwards as an explosive sound shattered my eardrums. I instinctively shut my eyes as curls of dark, black smoke flooded through the building. Flames shot up heavily towards the sky as the smoke continued to cover everything. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I noticed the feeling of warmth on my cheek and knew it was my own blood oozing out of yet another scar; this one being visible. I didn't notice it because my mind was reeling with the fact that I had lost.

Sure, I had gotten everyone out of the building, every family was now mingling with each other, praising that they had escaped a horrific accident. Except it wasn't an accident. I was the one who had lost, the one who had suffered. Gordon had been in the building, I knew it with every twist of my stomach. Gordon was gone, and it was my entire fault. There goes the sigh of relief or the idea of celebrating. How was I supposed to do any of those things when I had lost once again to a twisted, cruel killer? Gordon was gone. It was my fault.

I didn't realize it or know how I managed to do it, but I got to my feet. My legs were shaky from the blast of the explosion. Rage caused me to see red before my eyes as I slowly took in the event. My apartment was gone, totally destroyed by a ruthless attacker. More than that, I had just lost my one supporter in this city. In the depths of my heart, I finally tried to accept that Gordon was no longer with me, that he would never see the brightness of the sun again. I turned away from the building and solemnly promised myself that I would avenge his end by catching this twisted psychopath that was constantly lurking in the streets of Gotham. Even if it meant earning a few more scars.

___________________________________________________________

It had worked! The explosion had been massive, almost like the hospital building two years ago. It was absolutely the most fulfilling sight in the world for the killer. Then again, the look on Jenn's face had been equally satisfying. It had been very close, too. Jenn had been scanning the crowd for the killer and if there had not been a chance to turn away from the scene, Jenn might have noticed. It was a terrible risk to show up before the explosion, but the act of doing so had been irresistible to the killer. However, Jenn was getting terribly close. She just didn't realize how dreadfully close to the killer she actually was. When she did finally put the pieces together, it would be too late for her. And then the killer would have the last laugh.

Too bad about the Commissioner, though; that part, as amusing as it was to deal another wound to Jenn's spirit, was completely unexpected. Now Jenn had no more helping hands, especially since there had been no sign of the Batman during the killer's horrible tasks or any hint of annoying intrusions from the dark knight. It would be so wonderful to see Jenn collapse under the pressure, to see her spirit finally shatter with a few more wounds. By then, she'll be practically begging for the prospect of death.

_Don't worry, little detective, it will be all over soon enough…_


	9. The Dark Knight

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, Harley Quinzel, or anything else associated with this series. DC Comics owns it. I only own Jennifer Dawes.

Note: Here is the next chapter and I appreciate all reviews that I get. I am hoping to add a few twists into my story before the ending, so I hope the readers keep reading. Remember to R&R because all reviews, comments, questions, ideas, and constructive criticism are appreciated greatly. (= Enjoy.

Chapter 9:The Dark Knight

Rain was horrendously pouring over my head as I walked the streets of Gotham, but at that point I didn't have the energy in my body to notice or care. It felt as if all the energy that was previously stored away had been sucked out of me and I was close to convincing myself that I really should drop this case. Another small part of my mind argued that I had to finish this case no matter what. If not for myself, then for Gordon. All these thoughts swam around my head as the rain continually drenched my hair and clothes. At this moment, the rain was so heavy that even I wasn't sure whether I was crying or not. Gordon had been a good man, and he did not deserve to die the way he did. The memory of his arrival on my doorstep two years ago, with a saddened report of my sister's death, crashed against my skull. It was just like Rachel all over again. What made it feel worse was the realization that it was my fault.

Before I could mentally beat myself up any more, I heard a faint rustling somewhere above. I lifted my face to the sky, felt cold raindrops fall onto my face, and concluded that I must be imagining noises since there was nothing there. In the next instant, a dark shadow fell to the ground in front of me and I instinctively reached for my gun. The figure, whoever it was, clasped my wrist to stop me from claiming the weapon. A deep voice came towards me before I could react to the swift movement that disarmed me against my attacker.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I only want to talk to you." I relaxed my body a bit as I realized that the figure standing before me was Gotham's supposed dark knight. His next few words took me by surprise. "I heard about Gordon; he was something of an ally of mine. I also knew your sister, Rachel." I watched as Batman stepped towards a lighter area and I was able to further recognize him due to various stories I had recently heard. It was only after a full minute that I found my voice again.

"You're him…Batman, I presume? I heard about you, especially because of what the Joker did two years ago. Besides, it's my own fault that Gordon was caught in that building. So what exactly are you doing here and what do we have to talk about?" I didn't know what to expect from this dark knight. I sure as hell didn't expect his next words.

"I wanted you to know that I'm here to help you. All I want to do is help those who need it. I have been looking into this case, with Gordon's assistance. I'm finding it difficult to figure out. I also know you went looking into Arkham Asylum. I didn't expect anyone to get much information out of the Joker, even someone like you. I just need you to trust me, so that we can find whoever is committing these crimes as quickly as possible." I thought everything over before I made my decision. I really didn't know this person, this apparent vigilante, and now I was expected to trust him. Then I thought about the crime that was rising on the streets and the murders that have been stacked against us.

"I trust you. It seems you just want to help make things right. I could use a little help right now."

"Thank you. I intend to help you as much as I can. By the way, be careful. This killer seems to be growing desperate in his task of getting to you. I'll watch out for you." At his last word, he rose into darkened sky and I imagined him blending in with the rainy darkness. I almost felt as if I could smile again, if only for a minute. It was a bit of a nice feeling to know that there was still one person watching my back. How little did I know that this insane case was going to take a bit of a twist before it came to an end.

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I had found something of a hotel outside Gotham City and I now resided there since the burning of my apartment building. It was remotely tiny, but it would do until I wrapped up this case. If I ever did wrap it up. I had just gotten through the door when my cell phone chirped in my coat pocket. Looking at the caller ID, I recognized the number for the morgue that I had stored in my phone, in case any new information arose. My hopes lifted just a little as I prayed that someone actually found something. Just one little clue might be enough.

The woman's voice on the line sounded almost excited and I could feel myself wanting to listen. It was about the autopsy of Amber's body. The woman didn't wait for me to speak before she began to explain her reason for calling me.

"Mrs. Dawes, I'm so glad I caught you just now. I have some interesting news for you based on the autopsy of Amber Mitchell. There was really nothing unusual about it until we saw her hand; did you see how she had clenched it tight?" I was sure I had noticed that one detail, but I hadn't instantly taken it into concern. Now, I was wondering whether that detail would have led somewhere. He woman's voice seemed to grow more intense as she continued.

"Well, we found a few small strands of hair in her fist. She must have grabbed the hair out of the killer's head at the point of her death. So in other words, she put up quite a struggle before her death. Anyway, we immediately began examining the hair that we found. It is actually an extremely light blonde, and we are now assuming it belongs to a woman instead of a man. I hope that at least helps your case. I tried calling you earlier, but it was difficult to reach you. You are welcome to come down here now and examine it…." The rest of the message went unheard to my ears as I repeated those words in my own mind.

Most of the pieces finally fit together as I repeated those words. The hair had belonged to a woman…not a man. We had always assumed it was a man. We had been wrong, and that had completely thrown us off. The world seemed to halt before my eyes and that one sentence bounced around my head. I didn't have to see the hair to know who it belonged to at this point. It all made sense.

_'Light blonde hair….light blonde hair…'_ These thoughts crashed against my skull. It all made sense to me now, and the more I looked at a bigger picture, the more it continued to make sense. My mother, my childhood friend, the asylum, even the note…These thoughts did not cease until I heard a faint footstep behind me. I did not get the chance to turn and face my attacker because a cloth drenched in a type of substance—my bets were on chloroform—was forced under my nose with unexpected strength.

My senses felt about ready to explode as I struggled to remember not to breathe in the substance, but already its effects were taking hold of me. The room swayed and spun as the lights seemed to fade away. I think I dropped my cell phone, but it was hard to tell since my arms were becoming increasingly limp and numb. My legs ceased to a jello feeling and I was facing the hard floor in the next moment, though I had no memory of falling. As the majority of the lights went out of sight, I was aware of hands pulling on me, no doubt trying to lead me to a kind of torture chamber like the ones you see in 'Hostel'. I couldn't remember what made me consider that thought. Before the darkness overtook me, I noticed one last, small detail. The last thing I saw was very light, blonde hair cascading over someone's face. Then, my heart seemed to stop beating and the darkness finally claimed me.


	10. One Last Scar

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, or Harley Quinzel, nor do I own anything else that is associated with this series. DC Comics does. I only own Jennifer Dawes.

Note: Another chapter is here! I hope the people who are reading this keep reading and remember to R&R. All reviews are appreciated along with any questions, comments, and ideas. Thank you and enjoy the next chapter. (=

Chapter 10: One Last Scar

I had lost track of the time, and did not have a clue about whether I had been asleep for days or simply hours. My head was still spinning and I feared opening my eyes at the moment, mainly due to the sight of this place that I was being kept hostage in. From time to time I would faintly hear soft footsteps behind me, as if someone kept checking on me or waiting for the moment I would awake. I had weakly tried to move my arms and I soon figured out that I was tied to a chair with thick ropes. There was a constant breeze on my skin and I presumed that the killer had left the door open, or maybe a window. The memory of my realization of the identity of the killer suddenly crashed back into my head. I reluctantly opened my eyes as I heard a door open behind me.

It took me a few minutes to get my eyes to open. When I did, I immediately recognized _her_ smiling triumphantly down at me. Her hair looked more blonde than usual and I instantly felt the urge to rip it out of her head. If only my hands weren't lost to my control. Her shrill voice was filled with mockery and I was sure she wanted to savor her glory of taking hold of me as her victim.

"Awww…look who's finally awake. It's about time, too. Now for the fun part. Trust me, I'm going to enjoy every minute of what I'm planning on doing to you. Poor little detective. You sure earned yourself a nice, huge scar this time, huh?" I slowly lifted my head to glare at her. The last thing I was going to do was show fear to a woman like Harley Quinzel. My stomach twisted into fierce knots and argued otherwise. I had to keep her talking until I could come up with a decent plan. Unfortunately, my voice was a bit shaky and betrayed the feelings of my twisting stomach. I begged whoever was listening that Harley did not notice my tone.

"So….why did you even start targeting people? Better yet, why murder someone like my mother in the first place?" Harley released a squeal of laughter before proudly explaining her gruesome actions.

"That little annoying twit? Simple. She didn't deserve that case. I wanted that case more than anything, but she refused to hand it over to me. You see, the two of us really didn't see eye to eye. She wasn't making any progress anyway; he wasn't going to speak to someone like her. So I wanted it. And I got it. I usually get what I want, one way or another." I could feel the hate filling my body and my eyes were practically aiming daggers at her. Still, she continued her little story and threw off my glares.

"I followed her home on night when it was raining. We were both working late at Arkham, so I found it to be my perfect opportunity. Oh, the feeling when that knife cut her chest open….she was always very weak, wasn't she? I was doing all of it so I could have that case all to myself. Besides, I was the one who found him truly fascinating, not her!" Harley paused to catch her breath and apparently her emotions were getting the better of her. Her eyes were very dark and completely unreadable at this point. All the while, I kept trying to loosen the knots in the rope, but it has been my curse to have such poor fingernails.

"I thought that was the end of the whole situation, especially since I had the case in my hands and I was free to study the Joker as I pleased. He is, after all, one of the most admirable patients in that hospital, and he was my patient! That was all I wanted. Then the police found her body and you showed up to snoop around. Worse than that, you began snooping around the asylum. I knew I had to get you out of my way so I murdered one of your friends to try to drive you away. I became even more furious when that did not work." At this point, I realized that Harley must have had more than mere fascination for the Joker to do something like this. Needless to say, perhaps in an effort to keep her distracted, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"You were wrong if you thought that would have driven me away. If anything, it would place an even higher level of dedication to solving this case on my shoulders. Besides, what about the carved faces on your victims?" Harley's lips twitched in amusement at my claim before handing me the satisfaction of responding.

"The faces…almost as pleasurable as the killing. I only carved their faces in honor of the Joker. I do respect his way of killing so much. So, I used it on my own victims. Then again, the explosion wasn't a bad touch either. And poor Jenn lost a friend…" Harley broke into hysterical laughter that sent chills down my spine.

"You got the Joker to write the note, didn't you? In one of your sessions. So it wouldn't lead back to you and it didn't matter that he wrote it because it would only serve to throw me off." Harley grinned menacingly at me, most likely interested by how much I had put together in such little time.

"Of course I did. He found it amusing how I was playing cat-and-mouse with you. He wrote the note, and even helped me with the bomb itself. In no time, we had the whole explosion set up and ready to blow!" Harley's laughter continued as I began to argue with her, which I guess isn't the best of my choices.

"You're so pathetic! The Joker was using you and corrupting your mind for his own insane games. As far as I see it, he was corrupting you in order to watch you fall to his level."

"Not really. He wasn't corrupting me, little detective. He was helping me, simply helping me. Plus, I didn't fall to any level. Looks to me as if I'm on a greater level than I was before." Harley moved behind my chair and out of sight. My body tensed as I tried to visualize what she was doing. The ropes suddenly fell away and were replaced immediately by with cold steel that I recognized as handcuffs. Her voice, when she spoke again, held no more of the proud tone. Instead, it was cold and cruel.

"Stand up. Now! Your legs aren't hurt, only asleep from staying in one position for so long. It's time to end our game once and for all." I unsteadily got to my feet and my legs were instantly invaded by the feeling of pins and needles. With my hands being handcuffed, I didn't have much of a chance on hitting Harley. Grabbing my hair, Harley pushed me forward a few feet in a harsh manner. For the first time, I discovered where the cold wind was coming from. There was an open ledge in front of me, and I figured we must have been inside a kind of abandoned building or warehouse. Like the one my sister died in. Looking over the ledge, I could see that we were very high up. So high, I would most likely die if I fell to the streets of Gotham far below.

In the next instant, I scolded myself for not having that much common sense. This is exactly what Harley wanted. She wanted to witness my body falling to the concrete below and have my body splatter into distasteful ruins. I could do nothing about it. I was dead. Then came her last words and everything else happened in a flash after that.

"Goodbye, little detective. Not long now until you're reunited with that pitiful mother and horrendous sister of yours." I felt a hard push in the next second and my body was falling into open space. That wasn't what shocked me. What surprised me were the gunshots I heard right before I submerged myself in open space. There had been another person there? The ground came rushing up at me and the air was whipping past my ears. I couldn't catch a breath, I couldn't make my heart stop pounding, and I couldn't shut my eyes. The next thing I knew, a black shadow wrapped itself around me and I convinced myself that it was over. I was dead and there would never again be life in my body.

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I opened my eyes cautiously and saw the stars gazing back at me. I also saw another person looking concerned and staring into my eyes. Gordon. Okay, at this point, I was wholly convinced that I was dead and this was the afterlife. Another person moved into view, but it wasn't someone I knew to be dead. It was Batman, also looking a bit concerned towards me. I must have passed out, but how would that explain…

Then the information began to click into place as my brain lost the sense of fogginess that had recently clouded my mind. The gunshots. I sat bolt upright, winced at a bit of pain, and practically yelled at the top of my lungs, which still felt ready to explode along with my heart.

"The gunshots…that was you! You shot the gunshots that I heard when I fell. And Batman caught me before I hit the ground." I was looking back and forth between Gordon and Batman, waiting for one of them to respond. Batman was the first.

"I told you before that I was going to watch out for you." Gordon turned slowly to me and helped me off the ground. I was still attempting to put the picture together in my head.

"So…how are you alive? I mean, the explosion…"Gordon held up a hand to stop my words before he explained his intentions.

"When you told me that the killer was going to attack your apartment building, I knew the stakes were getting pretty high. I then constructed the plan of "dying" so that the killer would think you were alone, giving them a chance to come out of hiding. I kept a close eye on you from a distance and apparently I was right. I followed the killer to this abandoned building and was planning on helping you. You could say I hold things pretty close to the chest." My mind raced over these words as I realized how well Gordon's plan worked out.

"Well, what about Harley?" The glum look on their faces told me that bad news was coming. Gordon was the one who spoke up to answer my question.

"After I shot the bullets at her, and I did catch her leg, she fled. Somehow, she had gotten her hands on a gun. I saw that when I caught up with her. She ended up shooting me in the chest once. Then, after I was able to get to my feet again, I found that she had disappeared. I have no idea where she is or where she's going. I put out a report on her, though, so other police will be on the lookout." My eyes quickly found the patch of blood staining Gordon's shirt. My hopes of finally catching the killer, Harley, were dashed when he explained that she was gone. The police wouldn't be the only ones on the lookout for her. At that moment, Gordon allowed me to lean on him as we started to make our way to a much safer haven.


	11. The End Is Just The Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Gordon, the Joker, Harley Quinzel, or any other character associated with this series. DC Comics does. I only own Jennifer Dawes.

Note: Well, here is the last chapter of this story. All reviews are appreciated and I hope the readers will keep reading until the end. Remember to R&R! (= Enjoy. 

Chapter 11: The End Is Just The Beginning

_Jenn_

Since my rough, life-threatening night, I had cleaned myself up a bit and have become more careful in my line of work. After that night in which I truly discovered the harlequin's intentions, I paid one final visit to the asylum of horrors. This time, however, it was for a completely different reason. I had no desire to see the Joker and, more than that, I had nothing to say to him. Nothing I could say would matter; it would only serve to amuse him. Harley had been somewhat obsessed with the idea of the Joker and he had used the chance to cause more chaos in Gotham. The person I wanted to see had no personal ties to me. I liked it better that way.

As usual, I was escorted to the third floor, but I was instead going to see Jonathon Crane. My mind had recalled the moment when I first talked to him and his words about the asylum rang in my head. Instead of going to his cell, the nurse brought me into the interrogation room. What, the doctors here were so nosy that they couldn't resist just placing us in a room across the hall from the patient's cell? The nurse murmured something about how unfortunate it was about Harley, which I paid little attention to since it really wasn't "unfortunate" at all, and she left me alone in the room with Jonathon Crane.

He was already sitting in the chair across from me, handcuffed, and watching me with great interest. His intense eyes still seemed to burn through me, and I found that I couldn't avoid his gaze. I took the seat across from him and he waited for me to begin, knowing that I had a lot to say.

"You knew…about Harley. You told me to look inside the asylum the first time we talked. So, you knew then?" He leaned back in his chair and smiled before answering.

"It wasn't so much knowing as it was suspecting. I saw the way she looked when she talked about the Joker's case. I also witnessed her reactions to certain details concerning the murders. She didn't always keep her true intentions nice and hidden as she probably hoped. It really helps to have a bit of doctor in me, doesn't it?" I still couldn't avoid his eyes and he continued when I didn't respond to his words. "Plus, I knew fairly well that she never got along with your mother and that she was jealous of anyone who had their hands on that case. So, I suspected her and wanted so much to point her out to someone. That someone just happened to be you." I mimicked his actions by leaning casually back in my chair and looking directly into his eyes as I continued my questioning.

"Why did you want to expose her anyway? I mean, when she was causing chaos? _You_ had to have caused some chaos to land in this place." Crane laughed softly at my last statement, but ignored it afterwards. Crane dropped his gaze and looked as if he was thinking about how best to respond. Finally, he met my eyes again and spoke quietly.

"Truth be told, she's not my type. I never did like her that much and she knew it. I didn't feel very guilty about considering the action of exposing her. Plus, I don't love chaos like the Joker loves chaos. It's two different subjects altogether. He is fascinated by chaos and corruption more than anything else in this world, which further moved Harley along." I understood his words, yet I still had questions to ask. It seems the world can never run out of questions, even when you don't want the answers.

"Why didn't you tell anyone besides me?" Crane's eyes grew noticeably darker as he spoke his next words.

"Nobody else would listen. Nobody really listens to you or believes you when you're…crazy." His words died away in almost a whisper as he waited for my response. Most likely to see if I agreed or not. Instead, my words took him by surprise.

"I did. I listened to you because I needed all the help I could get. So I listened. You were right, by the way. It was Harley. She's gone now. We don't know where she is, but we're looking for her." Crane's expression held a hint of amusement as I got to my feet. His next words stayed with me for a while after that point.

"Don't let the asylum of horrors get to you, my dear. We all have scars to show. It proves we're still alive and it proves that you're stronger than you think. Don't be ashamed of your scars, my dear." I think I smiled then. For the first time in years, I really smiled.

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I had finished packing my car with the few things I had left. I was preparing to leave Gotham for the second time in my lifetime, and with a couple new scars. Gordon stood to the side, watching me as I completed my task. He mentioned to me earlier that he would watch the asylum in case Harley did return due to her obsession with the Joker.

After packing my car, I went to stand next to him. Without saying anything, he put his arms around me and hugged me lightly. It was actually surprising, but a little comforting at the same time. I promised him that I would be back to see him soon. Plus, I wasn't wary anymore about being in Gotham. Now, I had a few more people watching out for me. People that would always be there, waiting for my return.

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The Joker was sitting in his cell late that night. Whispers floated around the asylum about Harley Quinzel and the chaos that followed in her steps. The Joker laughed hysterically at these thoughts. Oh, the feel of corruption and chaos. It was so satisfying, so worth a good laugh. At least to the Joker it was.

Then there was the thought of Jenn. She thought she had finished the case, that it was all over. Chaos is never-ending; it never has to finish its cruel task. The Joker was an agent of chaos and intended it to last, to be ongoing. Harley was the perfect tool for this. But there was more chaos in the future. The two of them had spoken of it in their sessions. The massive plan had yet to be presented to Gotham. Oh, what fun that would be. The Joker continued to laugh at the thought of unknown chaos and how Jenn was completely unaware of it. There was always chaos lurking around the corner. After all, the end is just the beginning.

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The End! That is the end of my story, but I am thinking about making a sequel sometime. Please R&R and tell me what you think! All reviews, comments, questions, and ideas are appreciated. Thank you! (=


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